The Want
by chlday
Summary: Picks up at the end of Chapter 65 of Ignite Me. First and third chapters are written in Warner's POV, the second is written in Juliette's. Thank you for the reviews and requests thus far! I hope you like the chapter additions :)
1. Chapter 1

Yes.

Her answer is yes.

She does think my title should change.

I am more than just her friend, I am her favorite friend, and she wants more from me.

Oh Juliette, I will give you so much more.

I will give you everything I have.

I will give you the world.

I will be good to you.

My left hand is resting on her hipbone, the right is still pinching her zipper, and Juliette is propping herself onto her elbows and arching her back as she turns to look at me, and the way her body is bending makes me absolutely crazy.

The way she's biting her bottom lip and dropping her gaze to my mouth is driving me even crazier.

She's pulling her sleeves further down her arms, freeing herself from her suit. But her eyes are glazed over, so intently focused on my lips, I'm not sure she knows she's undressing herself. The movements are disconnected but deliberate, purely instinctual.

I skim my right hand up her back, feeling her bare skin, following the line of her spine.

She shivers in response. And her—

Her bottom lip drags itself free from her teeth.

It's an utterly slow and terribly sexy motion.

And I'm stunned for a moment, dazed by how delicious she is, how she is sweeter and spicier and more satisfying than anything else I have ever known. Every muscle in my body is tense. Every fiber is warm. Every—

Her eyes flutter shut as my fingertips reach her neck, and she's tilting her head back, releasing a shaky breath through parted lips.

And I'm done.

I am done marveling.

I want a taste.

I move over her, dropping a kiss onto the back of her neck as I bunch her hair up and over her shoulders, and I let my hands trail down her front until they reach the fabric of her suit, and this will not do, this suit has to go.

I grab two fistfuls and yank the suit down over her hips.

I pull away just to bring it down her thighs, calves, and feet.

This is better.

This is so much better.

She's still arching her back.

I grab her hips and slide my hands down the sides of her thighs. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it reverberate in my chest; I can hear it in my ears. I flatten my palms against the front of her thighs, and squeeze her legs, just above her kneecaps.

Her response is a barely-restrained whimper.

I'm grinning shamelessly.

I love this.

I love watching her go crazy and hungry for me the same way I go crazy and hungry for her.

And God, she is so beautiful I can hardly stand it.

I let my hands travel back up her legs, over her hipbones, her sides, her ribcages, and then I veer towards the center, letting my hands meet at the base of her neck.

Her head cocks to the side and she gasps.

I chuckle. "God, I love the sounds you make."

She spins around, eyes wide. "Aaron!"

I close my eyes. I also love the way my name sounds on her tongue.

She trembles and collapses, burying her face in the pillow. "Stop it!" she squeaks.

I crawl forward and lower my body over hers, oh so slowly.

She shudders and groans.

I'm smirking. "What's wrong, love?"

She shakes her head.

I place my lips against her shoulder.

I slide my left hand down her side, and wrap it around her hipbone.

"Aaron," she breathes.

I'm smiling against her skin. Nuzzling her neck.

Her hips are pulling away from the mattress again, pressing against me, and I tilt my head back and moan. I squeeze my hand tighter around her hipbone and nudge my own hips forward.

She trembles. "Aaron," she gasps, sounding extremely frustrated. "Stop that."

I incline my head. "You're going to have to be more specific, love. What should I stop doing?"

Her voice seems to fail her.

I decide to have fun with this.

"Is this what you want me to stop?" I ask, giving a second thrust of the hips.

Her hands clench into fists, gathering up folds of the pillowcase.

"Interesting response," I say softly, brushing my lips against her skin. "So you do want me to stop?"

When she doesn't say anything, I plant my hands on the bed and push myself up and off of her.

She doesn't like that.

She turns over and hooks her arms around my neck, locking me in place with a viselike grip, and her lips crush mine, all in one swift motion. Her fingers grip my hair almost angrily.

I love it when she's wild like this.

She's hungry and aching, and she wants me to sate her appetite.

She's practically attacking me.

And I am very much enjoying it.

I take her hair in my hands and pull her head back. She gasps and trembles and wraps her legs around my hips as I trail kisses down her throat.

Her hands are on my body, and she's clawing at my clothes, and it reminds me of how she ripped my shirt open our first time, and I swear this girl will be the death of me.

I have her. She's chosen me. And yet, she still destroys me.

I unclasp her bra and ball it up, toss it aside.

I have no intentions to give her what she wants just yet, though.

I want to keep teasing her.

Until she takes control.

My shirt is open and she's shoving it down my arms. I dip my head down, so that my mouth is by her ear.

"Weren't you asking me to stop five seconds ago? Because," I lower my voice, "you seem awfully eager to keep going all of a sudden."

I hear the smack of Juliette licking her lips. "I-I just—"

Her hands fumble down to my pants. I grab her wrists, stopping her.

My breath hitches. "You what?"

She squirms. "You w-were being—" she breathes in and out. "You—"

I pull back to look into her eyes. Her gaze flits from my eyes to my lips and back again.

"What do you want, love?" I'm grinning. I want to hear her say it. "Tell me what you want."

For a moment, she's quiet.

And then, "You."

"Me?" I quirk my eyebrows. "What about me?"

Her gaze drops. "You know," she whispers. "You already know what I want. You know what I'm doing, you can feel what I'm feeling."

"Fair enough," I admit. "But with those things in mind – I'm sure you can see why I am asking, love. Why were you telling me to stop?"

"I didn't mean actually stop."

"Then what?" I ask. "What else does stop mean?"

Juliette fidgets, and her voice is small – so impossibly small – as she answers: "I meant I wanted you to stop teasing me like that. And I want you to stop teasing me now, and if you get to take my clothes off, I better get to take yours off." Her eyes flare with indignation.

Yes.

Good.

That's all I wanted.

I'm done playing with her now, the game is over; she can have what she wants.

She can always have what she wants.

I will always be good to her.

I release her wrists.


	2. Chapter 2

God.

If he says one more thing, if his fingers keep tracing my skin, if he utters another word about the sounds I'm making right now, if he keeps talking and touching and teasing, I will break things. I will break things, and I won't be sorry, because—

He's readjusting.

He's stretching himself out over me, he's gripping me and holding me and now he's laying down on top of me, and I'm not breathing. There's no oxygen. My lungs are dry and my muscles are all taut, like rubber bands getting pulled in different directions, and I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't breathe—

"What's wrong, love?"

His words are shimmery and hot, like steam or a mirage, and I'm shivering.

I'm trembling.

I'm—

I'm feeling his lips

against my

shoulder.

And his hands

at my hips.

He's pressing his face against my neck, and I can feel the flutter of his eyelashes, the tip of his nose, the breath between his lips.

I tell him to stop, but I don't really want him to stop.

I just—

I just need to breathe.

He just needs to give me a moment so I can breathe, yes, that's what it is I'm not breathing.

"You're going to have to be more specific, love. What should I stop doing?"

How is he doing that? How is he forming full sentences, how can he even think right now, when all of the oxygen is missing?

"Is this—?"

Oh God.

Oh God I don't even hear the rest of what he says, his words are mushy in my head, they're jumbled letters and I can't make any sense of them, not while he's moving like that, not while he's pressing himself against me like that, not while the heater is turned up to a thousand degrees and the oxygen is gone, not while, not while—

"Interesting response."

I—

I didn't respond?

"So you do want me to stop?"

No. I want to breathe.

I just can't figure out how to while you're doing that, but I—

He's gone.

He's gone and he better come back, he better come back right now.

I scramble and I flip over and I clutch him before he gets further away.

Yes.

Good.

You're not going anywhere.

You are staying. You are staying right here, and you are going to keep doing that, I don't care if I can't breathe, this is better than oxygen anyway, and I'm – I'm trying to form the words, I'm trying to let him know that I want him to keep going.

I need him to keep going.

And I—

Oh, whatever.

I'll take what's mine.

If my fingers will work, I'll take what's mine.

Buttons are very complicated things.

His shirt is open.

His shirt is open and I want to feel his chest. I want to feel it beneath my fingertips, and I want him to pin mine down against the mattress. I want to kiss him and drown in him, I want so many things, but first I want this shirt completely off. I'm working it down his arms, and—

He stops me.

And I don't know why.

He leans in. "Weren't you asking me to stop five seconds ago? Because," he says, "you seem awfully eager to keep going all of a sudden."

Because I needed to breathe.

That's what I meant.

I just needed you to stop so I could breathe.

Did I not say that?

Has all of this been inside my head?

I could have sworn I said some of it—

Pants. These pants have to go.

He stops me again.

"You what?" he asks huskily.

Stop it stop it stop it stop it.

This is mean, this is very mean, and I can see it in his eyes, he wants me too, he wants me right now, he kept moving like that, kept touching me like that, but he's not letting me touch him, he won't let me feel him. He's teasing me and playing hard to get, and I don't like this.

I don't like this at all.

He's making me crazy.

I glare at him, and I open my mouth, but I don't know what comes out.

I just know it works.

He releases my wrists.


	3. Chapter 3

She wastes no time.

Her hands return with a renewed vigor: they're not fumbling anymore; they're swift and deliberate, certain in their movements. She yanks my zipper all the way down, and she's so consumed in her desire, she's so hungry, she forgets her own strength – and she rips the zipper clean off.

Her eyes widen a fraction. She utters a single, startlingly clear word. "Oops."

I can't help but laugh. "It's okay, love. I have plenty of pants."

And the zipper is abruptly forgotten.

She's pulling my pants off, and I stand up to make it easier for her.

I lift my left foot, and she jerks the fabric off and away.

I lift my right foot, and she does it again, tosses the pants aside.

I start bending my knees, arms outstretched, ready to climb over her, ready to quench her thirst and satisfy her hunger.

But this time, she stops me.

Her hands clutch my forearms.

She whispers, "Wait."

And I freeze.

I stay very still.

"Juliette?"

Her grip loosens, and her fingertips trace up the insides of my forearms, following the map of my veins. Her touch is so soft, it makes my skin curl. She's circling around my elbows, and now she's going up and past my biceps, traveling beyond my arms and coming across my back, across my shoulder blades. Her hands stop. And they cup my shoulders.

She looks at me. Swallows. Stands up on the bed.

I place my hands on either side of her face.

I start leaning in to kiss her, and her hands squeeze my shoulders.

"I want you," she says, whispering the words into the closing space between us. Then more frantically, "I want this."

And I seal my mouth over hers. I want her, too. I want her more than she could ever understand; I want her more and more all the time.

My hands slip away from her face, and trail down her sides, pausing at her hips.

Her underwear is still on. How did that happen?

I hook my fingers under the elastic waistband and pull, slowly.

Slowly.

And I bend further down as I pull. I sink onto my knees. I sit on my heels.

Her hands slide away from my shoulders and get caught in my hair.

I pause with my hands at her calves.

I lean in, and her fingers twist in my hair, pulling it painfully, but I don't mind.

And then it changes.

It changes as I feel a spurt of her energy course through me, zapping me, jolting me so suddenly, I can't make sense of it, I can't hold onto it. My hands clench into fists, my eyes fly open and my arms fly apart. I gasp.

I just ripped her underwear into two halves.

She stumbles backwards, blinking. "Wh-what just happened? Was that my—did I just—?"

I cough out a laugh, and stare down at my hands. I shake my head once, clearing the sensation of the head rush. And then I turn my attention back to her.

Because I'm still ready.

And she's still hungry.

She's still waiting.

I discard the fragments of her underwear, and I place my hands on her shoulders, guiding her back down, onto the bed.

And I pick up where I left off.

She gasps and bucks her hips. One of her hands is clutching at the sheets, the other is clawing at my scalp, and I still don't mind, I don't mind at all. There's a moan building in her throat, and I want it out. Her back is arching up and away from the mattress, and I want to scoop my arms around her, I want to lay myself out across her, I want to kiss her and feel her. I want our limbs tangled around each other.

But not yet.

I'll keep this going a little longer.

Her legs brace me in place, clamping hard against my sides, knees colliding with my ribs.

Her entire body shudders.

I think she's trying to say my name, but she can't seem to get past the _A._

That's okay, Juliette.

You don't have to say anything.

I'm coming.

I pull away and crawl towards the top of the bed. I plant my elbows on the pillows, situated on either side of her face.

Her eyelids are fluttering, and her breathing is ragged, but the moment I'm here, her eyes open wide. She sucks in a tight breath.

And her legs hook around my waist.

I incline my head, and place a kiss against her throat, then another at her collarbone. My kisses trail up the side of her neck. Travel across her cheek. And find her mouth.

Her arms wrap around my back.

The right one is strung across my lower-back, hand clutching my side.

The left is holding my upper-back at a slight diagonal, hand clutching my shoulder.

She stops kissing me and tilts her head back, trying to catch her breath.

And I smile.

And I dip my head down.

And I press the side of my face against the crook of her neck.


End file.
